Clouds Like These
by drurie
Summary: A quick series of misunderstandings leads to the biggest one of all: Malfoy thinking Harry's the one who hexed him into a girl. Harry most certainly will not stand for such blame; and he will also not stand for such maltreatment of an innocent of war. Saint Potter's insufferable hero complex could be the death of him or the start of something new. Drarry, one-sided Harry/Ginny.
1. Disgraceful

A/N: A revamp of one of the very first Drarry fics I ever wrote. I was probably 13, 14 then? So it was really quite immature sounding (insert nervous laugh). I took it off the web a few years ago because the way I wrote it made me cringe. It came into my mind recently again though and I decided it was worth a shot at rework. Thanks for reading, as always!

* * *

Harry looked at the huge castle in front of him. He could see at his left Hagrid ushering the first years onto the boat and he heard the Thestrals breathe heavily behind him. Ron and Hermione stood beside him with their bags.

He felt Ginny sneak her hand into his.

He even saw a flash of blonde hair through the crowds of senior students.

And this was how everything should be, right? Defeating the Dark Lord at 17 and returning himself and everyone else, including his former arch-nemesis, to school the following year. He was going to complete his education, get a (hopefully boring) job at the Ministry, marry Ginny, start a family and die a peaceful certain death in the distant future.

He smiled.

It was good to have life so predictable.

* * *

Life seemed to have turned the other way for Malfoy though, Harry observed as they entered the Great Hall. He was still as arrogant as ever, but Harry could tell that he was more edgy than he wanted to appear. Malfoy sat at the corner of the Slytherin table, one foot out of the table's leg as if ready to run at any moment. His old cronies, Zabini and Parkinson, had chosen not to return to Hogwarts. The other Slytherins, especially the young ones, shot him dirty looks every now and then. They sat a vast distance away from him, such that he was a clear lone figure on an entire stretch of table.

Beside him, Harry heard Ron and Ginny guffaw at Malfoy's predicament. Hermione gave Ron a reprimanding look but said nothing to shut him up. Harry felt his heart plummet a little as he realised that Malfoy looked _lonely_.

Throughout the Sorting Ceremony, he stared at the blond who had his head down the whole time. Harry ventured a guess that he was trying to compose himself. Social rejection was definitely _not_ a Malfoy thing. When the food appeared, Malfoy scooped as much food as quickly as he could and ate it as fast as his grace would allow. He was finished by the time Harry was done transferring his own portion of meal to his plate. Harry's eyes never left him as he watched Malfoy prissily neaten his robes before stalking out of the hall. He wasn't sure if that later loud sniff from outside came from the blonde.

Ginny leaning against his shoulder lovingly shook him back to reality. There was a lot of blabber around him, and he knew not all of it was friendly talk. He could see the Slytherins sneering amongst each other and tossing their hair the way Malfoy used to. He heard Ginny and Ron laugh beside him again.

Harry's heart clenched unpleasantly and his brain did a nervous whir at his heart's decision: to protect or even befriend Draco Malfoy. _Bad idea if you want a normal year, _his brain advised.

But if the wizarding world was unable to look past former grudges and an enemy who didn't really want to be an enemy, what good was winning that war? He politely excused himself early from the table and headed back to the dorms early.

He saw Ginny's crestfallen expression but he tried not to let that waiver him.

He did not catch the curious gaze of one of his other housemates, though.

* * *

Harry continued keeping a close eye on Malfoy as they had many classes together. Since most of the 7th year Slytherins had chosen to continue their education elsewhere, the classes were dominated by the other three houses. Malfoy was a perpetual solitary figure, always sitting at the front desk by himself. He was the first to enter and leave, but made an effort to be one of the most active participants in class. Unfortunately that won him little favour from the professors who took more favourably to Hermione (despite her incessant jumping-out-of-her-seat-to-answer act for the whole duration of class). At the back of his mind he wondered how Malfoy coped with this treatment, given that his father could no longer hear about that (for at least five years). Perhaps Narcissa's constant gifting of sweets at breakfast was his only source of encouragement.

Still, that was pitiful.

He watched Malfoy enter the library instead of heading down for lunch and made another mental note of his schedule. Harry caught himself hoping slightly wistfully over lunch that Malfoy at least still played Quidditch. He was a good opponent on the field.

As if reading his mind, Ron suddenly asked, "D'you think that ferret's still gonna be on the team this year?"

Harry almost dropped his sandwich in surprise at the question and his mouth dropped open. A portion of ham probably fell out onto the ground. He shut it immediately at Hermione's raised eyebrow.

"Don't be silly, Ron. His own house doesn't even want him at their dinner table," Ginny rolled her eyes and leaned against Harry, running a hand up his arm. Harry breathed nervously, hating the thought of anyone who wasn't entirely guilty having to suffer non-acceptance after the war. Not understanding, Ginny grinned as if she were the source of his embarrassment. Hermione continued staring at him rather thoughtfully.

"Y-yeah, probably not," he ducked his head in discomfort and continued nibbling at his sandwich. As he finished his last bite, he decided that he would check out the Slytherin seeker tryouts tomorrow.

* * *

The air was frigid the following morning when Harry trudged to the stands. It had been nearly impossible to shrug Ginny off from his body after breakfast. When he finally managed to, he simply muttered something to his friends about needing fresh air and sprinted out of the castle. Now he was here back on the stands of the Quidditch field, he felt at ease. He smiled broadly and leant back, closing his eyes for a while. That was, until a nasal voice broke the silence.

"Smiling at the clouds today are we, Potter? Better zip up that _pathetic_ jacket of yours before you catch a nasty cold."

Harry jerked ungraciously forward, unconsciously hugging his jacket tightly around his body as he opened his eyes to see Malfoy already strolling away toward the field, latest broom in hand.

"Malfoy!" he gasped out before he could stop himself.

He didn't expect Malfoy to turn around, but he did. It was a slow cautious gaze back, as if Malfoy were expecting a hex to his face. The blond boy stood unmoving, questioning Harry with his silence.

"I- er- all the best for the tryouts later," Harry finished lamely. He gritted his teeth and thought about how he could be back in the warm tower drinking hot chocolate with friends and Ginny curled around his arm.

_Stupid hero instinct._

Malfoy cocked his head and it looked as if he was trying his best not to curl his lip in a derisive sneer. He smoothly replied as he straightened his back, "Thank you Potter, but I won't be trying out for the team. Surely you already know how the others consider me."

Harry blinked in surprise and he heard Malfoy comment dryly, "Everything surprises you nowadays, doesn't it, Potter?"

"Um no, I've observed that," Harry licked his lips out of nervousness, "Then, er, what are you doing here with a broom in your hand?"

Harry wasn't sure if that was a _beam_ on Malfoy's face.

"Well I'm here to fly for a while, of course."

And with that, Malfoy turned away and took to the skies with his broom. He twisted elegantly in the wind and accelerated and went higher and higher till he was just a bright glowing spot in the early morning sky. He swiveled around like a hawk and pulled off stunts of such skill that made it look like he had never missed a day of practice.

Harry wanted to stay and watch, but he figured that he had embarrassed himself and didn't need to further humiliate himself by sitting here like some shameless fanboy. He zipped up his jacket and strode swiftly back to the castle. He thought he heard a snigger back at the stands. He didn't turn back in case it was Malfoy or a Slytherin who overheard their exchange.

* * *

"I'm headed to the library today," Harry said to his friends after Defence Against the Dark Arts, "Falling behind on work and all that, don't need to save me lunch."

"Don't be such a Hermione, Harry," Ron snickered as Hermione hit his arm in fake indignation, "We'll do that essay after dinner, now c'mon! Don't you want to see Ginny? Think she's already down at the lake waiting for her boyfriend."

Harry felt a jolt of guilt at that last statement. He and Ginny _weren't_ officially dating yet, but he probably was leading her on by not rejecting her physical contact. He had figured a few days ago that he probably still was interested in her somewhat, but he wasn't ready at the moment for the amount of commitment she seemed to demand.

"Ron, you know we're not dating yet," Harry flatly stated, "I'll do the essay and we can have a good time bumming around tonight, okay? I just want it out of my head."

His friend sighed in disappointment and was about to argue back when Hermione shook her head. Ron fell silent like a tamed animal. Despite himself, Harry grinned at Hermione and gave her a thumbs-up as Ron scowled.

"It's good to see that you're putting in the effort to get good grades, Harry," Hermione offered a smile, "We'll catch you at Potions later then."

Harry nodded and had to control himself from running toward the library. He was just curious about where Malfoy went and what he did in his spare time, nothing harmful. He only wanted to make sure Malfoy was having a bearable time while he was awake.

Walking silently and slowly down the aisles, he scanned the tables for a sign of pale blond hair. And there it was, at the very end of the library, alone and by the brightest window. Malfoy was bent over his parchment with at least five books next to him. He was scribbling furiously with his quill, his pointed features scrunched up in concentration and a hand against his forehead.

Harry kept very still, hoping that he was sufficiently shrouded by the shadows of the towering bookshelves. He didn't know how long he stood there, but it was long enough to see Malfoy finish his essay and take a nap with his head atop the books. He saw a bunch of young Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs point and giggle at the dozing Malfoy. He was slightly enraged by the immature display but he knew better than to confront them.

Then the bell sounded and Malfoy stirred from his slumber. Harry suddenly realised how hungry he was and the explaining he'd had to do tonight to Hermione about his unwritten essay. He groaned to himself and sneaked away before Malfoy rubbed away the sleep from his eyes.

* * *

"Ginny was so disappointed that you didn't turn up, mate, I thought she was going to _cry_ or something," Ron had commented sternly as Harry joined them to enter Potions class.

And now Harry wondered if the whole of Hogwarts (or the class at least) was disappointed with his choice of Potions partner today.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Malfoy gave him a sweeping gaze. He thought Malfoy was going to acknowledge his presence next to him by blasting him with a snarky remark, but the boy simply turned his head toward the professor's desk. The curious murmuring and tittering coming from the back of the class ever since he had sat down next to Malfoy was growing louder. His temper flared and he whipped his head around, daring his classmates to question him directly. Most of them fell silent quickly and stared at him with wide eyes. Ron had confusion splashed all over his face. Hermione did too, but she abruptly hid it when Harry looked at her. She signaled at him to calm down and face the professor. He gladly did so.

"I don't need your help, Potter," Malfoy whispered, a faint blush tinged across his face. He chopped the Mandrake roots with slightly more viciousness than Harry thought they required.

"It's nice to have company once in a while though, isn't it?" Harry indignantly queried as he took the cut roots and ground them with the pestle. Malfoy stiffened at that question and made a strangled sound that was caught between a sniff and a snort.

Despite the awkward silence that ensued, the preparation and brewing of the potion between them was excellent. Harry was silently happy that Malfoy wasn't throwing a fuss about him. By the end of the class, they were the pair with the clearest purple potion. Slughorn proudly swirled it around in its flask, holding it up into the light as he commended it loudly in front of the class. Harry could imagine the look of dismay on Hermione's face and he snickered to himself.

Sure enough, she strode up anxiously to the front when class ended.

"How did you get that shade of purple? All Ron and I got was a muddy blue!"

Harry, who didn't know a thing, just shrugged and looked down at his feet, scratching his arm.

"You probably just added a milligram too much bat wing," Malfoy responded, probably with as much courtesy as he could muster. Not expecting him to reply her, Hermione gaped at him before recomposing herself. She then looked at Harry like a trapped deer, as if asking him what to say in return. Harry just frowned and gave her a "where's your manners" look. Hermione nodded and swiftly said, "Thank you for your input, Mal-Draco."

Malfoy seemed to snap at that. He snarled at the pair of them as he chucked his books into his bag. He swung it ferociously around his shoulder, almost slapping Harry across the face with it, and quickly headed out of the classroom. Hermione stood there in stunned silence and Harry distantly heard Ron said something along the lines of "fucking ferret". He wasn't sure because he found himself chasing desperately after a fuming Malfoy down the now empty corridor.

"Malfoy, wait up!"

"What? What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, whirling around angrily, "I don't need your pity! I don't want it! Go find your red-headed weasel of a girlfriend or something, just leave me the hell alone, _scarface_! "

Harry took the chance to run up toward him.

"Look Malfoy, I just thought that the others weren't giving you a fair chance…" he said, out of breath and falling all over his words.

"And so you thought it would be okay for you to impose your friendliness and friends upon _me_?" Malfoy hissed, drawing himself up to his proud stance though he was still shorter than Harry.

"_No_, you git, I just wanted to make sure you're okay, because-"

"And how do you do that? By _stalking_ me and watching me sleep in the library? By observing me fly every other morning? By sitting in front of a class with me because your hero complex can't just _go away_?"

Harry, shocked at having been found out, was going to ask how Malfoy knew all that. But he never had the chance to as he was shot forcefully down the hallway by a spell Malfoy cast.

"_I don't want your pity, Potter!"_ Malfoy snarled again.

Harry dipped his head and was about to throw his hands up in acceptance and defeat when he saw a bright light flash from behind him. It threw Malfoy down against the ground with a sickening thud and he heard Malfoy cry out in pain. He turned dizzily around with his wand drawn; looking for the attacker but there was no one in sight.

When he turned back around, Malfoy was glaring at him with the force of a thousand burning suns. But…but his hair was long now and he was clad in a girl's uniform, and his features were more feminine and, and...(Harry's gaze dropped)…and he had _breasts_.

The spell shot by the attacker had turned Malfoy into a girl.

Harry stuttered and stammered and backed away, tripping over his robes with his wand still shaking in his clammy hand, knowing how it looked like to Malfoy; Malfoy, who was a girl but looked more like a venomous pale snake at the moment.

"_What the fuck did you do to me, Potter?_"


	2. A Self-Spurning Chemistry

A/N: I decided to take this fic in a quite different direction from my old one; which means re-planning heh. Updating this fic may thus take a little longer because I don't want too many gaping loopholes. Thanks for waiting, hope you enjoy!

* * *

"_What the fuck did you do to me, Potter?_"

Malfoy screamed as she lunged forward toward Harry, swinging a punch which narrowly missed his stomach. Alarmed, Harry snatched both of Malfoy's wrists, trying to hold him, no, _her,_ still.

"Let me explain," Harry hissed as Malfoy flailed furiously whilst glaring, infuriated, at him, "I _didn't _do it-"

"Don't you fucking _lie_ to my face!" Malfoy shrieked. She was still surprisingly physically strong in this form, managing to shrug Harry off and land a convincing punch on his face. Harry sputtered as he backed down, checking to see if his nose was still intact. Malfoy towered over him, jaw set and looking ready to continue the fight.

Then footsteps sounded from behind Harry. _Many_ footsteps. The first-year classes must have just ended, and a whole lot of students were headed their way.

Malfoy's eyes widened comically, desperately not wanting to be caught by anyone in this form. Harry grabbed the chance to bring himself back on his feet. He half-considered fleeing and leaving Malfoy to deal with the crowd on her own; but looking at her pathetically petrified form, he chose to save as usual. Gripping Malfoy's arm firmly, he pulled her up a nearby staircase and hid in a cramped area behind a dusty knight and the cold stone wall. The knight startled and moved at the unwelcome intrusion of space. Harry quickly jabbed its plate suit with his wand as a threat and it fell still and silent.

When he finally caught his breath and looked at Malfoy again, he realised with a horrid pang that her eyes were watery. The bustle of the crowd still sounded all around them so all he could do was carefully lift a hand to pat her shoulder as condolence. That seemed to jolt her out of her misery immediately. She looked back up at Harry insolently, eyes shining with hate and not tears.

They stood uncomfortably in the claustrophobic space for a good while, ignoring each other. Just as Harry thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air, the last of the footsteps cleared.

"Let's go find McGonagall," Harry suggested as he shoved her gently out of the space. He breathed deeply and noisily for a while, pleased at being able to inhale fresh air again. Malfoy looked at him in disgust, wrinkling her nose as if she were observing an unwashed animal rolling around mud. When he was done, she nodded tightly. Wrapping her arms around herself self-consciously, she followed distantly behind him.

The Headmaster's office was thankfully only a few levels up from where they were. Standing in front of the statue however, Harry suddenly realised he was at a loss. He flushed slightly as he stared gormlessly at it, his mind drawing a blank as to what Professor McGonagall could possibly ever want to set as a password. Malfoy tapped her foot rapidly and impatiently against the floor, the sound echoing discomfortingly around them.

"Um, Fizzing Whizbees," Harry tried lamely. No movement.

"Honestly Potter, I knew you were dumb but I didn't know you were _this_ dumb."

If Malfoy had a nasal voice as a boy, it was even worse now that he was a girl. Her sharp tone callously scraped over Harry's ears. Despite his attempt to stifle his anger, Harry whipped around in irritation, hands balling themselves up into whitened fists.

"Since you're so clever, go give it a shot yourself, Malfoy."

Malfoy gaped at him, scandalised.

"_You're_ the one who caused this whole thing, so you're going to be the one who fixes it. I'm not doing a thing to make up for your intellectual incompetence."

"I didn't hex you and turn you into a girl! I'll have you know it is out of my own-"

"Then just get out of here! _Get out of here_, I already told you that _I don't need your help_. I am sick of repeating myself to someone who just _insists_ on acting like a petulant child! "

"_I don't need your help,_ yeah, says the one who looked like he, I'm sorry, _she_, was about to cry-"

"You shut your bloody mouth!" Malfoy yelled as she launched herself at him again, tackling him roughly to the ground. She threw blow after blow relentlessly at him. Harry placed his arms helplessly above his face to defend himself, hoping that he could escape this with his facial structure still in place.

"_Boys!_"

Harry felt the weight of Malfoy shift off him as she ungraciously scrambled to her feet. Harry cautiously got back on his as Professor McGonagall strode furiously toward them. A fleeting sign of shock registered itself across her face as she got a better view of Malfoy.

"Explain yourselves," she said sternly, "Why are you two causing such a ruckus outside of my office? And for Merlin's sake, Mr Potter, did you think it was appropriate to cast such a spell on Mr Malfoy?"

Malfoy drew her back up proudly and she sniffed haughtily at Harry as if to scorn him for being caught. Harry felt anger pooling in his stomach. He seriously questioned himself as to why he thought it was a good idea to even help Malfoy with anything.

"I didn't hex Malfoy, Professor. I partnered him for Potions and that seemed to anger him for some reason. I followed him out of class to explain and he started a fight by hitting me with a spell. I was still on the floor when someone behind me shot this hex at him. I got up and turned around to see who it was but the attacker was gone. By the time Malfoy was up, all he saw the wand in my hand so he thought I _did _it," Harry rambled anxiously.

Professor McGonagall held out her hand in anticipation. Harry passed his wand over to her without hesitation. The most recent spells he had cast – a hair flattening charm, _Reparo_ and other harmless spells drifted up into the air.

Malfoy looked gobsmacked at his innocence. Harry took his wand back gratefully.

"We'll discuss this in my office," Professor McGonagall nodded.

* * *

The bright light from Professor McGonagall's wand enveloped Malfoy's frame. It shimmered, sparkled and grew. Harry shielded his eyes with a hand as he squinted in anticipation of a male Malfoy. The radiant whiteness then exploded and consumed the room for a moment before dissipating at once. Harry blinked several times to ascertain that he had not been mistaken.

Malfoy was still a girl.

* * *

"Not possible to undo this immediately?!" Malfoy squawked. Harry winced at her ugly flailing. He remembered thinking once that Malfoy looked like a very delicate boy but it was clear from this episode that he was definitely _not_ cut out to be a girl.

"Calm yourself down, Mr Malfoy. The hex usually wears off in an hour, but it seems that the incantation was tweaked a little. I am not sure how long this will last," Professor McGonagall said, looking at her over her spectacles.

"_Calm down?_ How am I supposed to _calm down_ when my future has been utterly _ruined_!" Malfoy lamented dramatically, covering her face with her hands.

"I will arrange for separate lodging for you till we find a solution to your problem," Professor McGonagall continued, "As much as possible, please continue attending all your classes."

Malfoy froze at that statement. She blushed as she tried to explain her schoolmates' rejection of her.

"I understand, Mr Malfoy, but I do not want to disrupt your education and I am sure you do not wish to graduate late. If you run into any problems, just drop any of the professors a message and we will see to it," she said, a little sympathetically.

Malfoy stopped gesticulating and fell oddly quiet.

"The area near the old Room of Requirement has been refurbished. I will allow you to stay there for as long as this condition persists. The house-elves will bring your possessions over to you," Professor McGonagall said conclusively, "Do your best to keep up with classes, Mr Malfoy. And ask for help if you need it; it will be given."

Malfoy scowled again at that, as if she had been scalded by a huge cauldron of boiling water.

* * *

"I can help you out with your classes if you need it," Harry abruptly said as they stepped out of Professor McGonagall's office, "Just owl me or something if you don't want to be seen talking to me." Malfoy swivelled around and just stared tiredly at him, as if exhausted of saying that she didn't want anyone's help.

"I know you're upset, Malfoy. And so am I, with the attacker _and_ you. But you don't deserve this treatment and you don't deserve to have to hide after all that has happened," Harry moved forward.

Malfoy snorted loudly and stalked away to her new room, never looking back.

Harry stood alone in the sunlit corridor for a long time, watching her retreating back. Then he sighed and walked away in the opposite direction.

* * *

Harry did not see Malfoy in _any_ of his classes for the next two weeks. She didn't fly anymore or appear at mealtimes; she had practically vanished off the face of the castle. Harry sneaked out late at night once to check the castle grounds, but it was completely void of life – save for a furiously snogging couple and the Giant Squid's noisy splashing in the lake.

Malfoy didn't seem to _ever_ leave her room. And that oppression angered Harry.

If he ever found out who the attacker was, that person would have hell to pay.

"I haven't seen that git in _two _weeks! You really hexed him good, didn't you, mate?" Ron gleefully clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder as he settled himself on the couch. Flames burned and crackled cheerily in the fireplace in front of them. Yet despite the warmth, Harry felt his blood run cold. His friends had not questioned him about his fight with Malfoy till now and he had hoped that they would not have noticed the disappearance of the blond.

"What hex did you use?" Ginny enquired, staring at Harry with starry eyes as she clung onto his arm, snuggling against him, "Any from the new repertoire I taught you over the summer?"

Hermione looked up curiously from her half-written essay. Harry shifted uneasily from the gaze of three pairs of eyes. It was probably safe to tell Hermione the truth, but if Ron or Ginny ever caught wind of Malfoy being hexed into a girl, the whole of Hogwarts would know within a day.

"I-er- yeah, heh," Harry murmured incoherently as he hung his head and studied his hands closely. Hermione stayed silent but the Weasley siblings roared loudly in approval. Harry quickly got up and went to bed, misery slowly seeping through him.

He _had_ to find out how Malfoy was doing.

* * *

11pm on a pitch black night; Harry hoped anxiously that the prefects wouldn't catch him out of bed outside of curfew time.

"Malfoy? Malfoy, open up," Harry whispered through the door as he rapped it. He could see light from the slit below so there was certainly someone awake inside. But there was no response.

Harry knocked on the door on and off for the next five minutes. He pressed his head tiredly against the door, wishing that that git would just open up for a second. "At least let me know you're alive," Harry said finally.

A derisive sound emitted from the other side of the door. Harry smiled grimly.

Good. If Malfoy still had his sense of arrogance, it meant that he wasn't falling apart.

Maybe he really did have an insufferable hero complex, Harry pondered to himself as he slid back into the dark Gryffindor common room. Maybe, for the first time since his birth, people really didn't need saving anymore.

Perhaps he was the only one stuck living in that chapter of history and everyone else had moved on since Voldemort's death. He tossed in bed for a while, thoughts racing around furiously and incoherently. He didn't fall asleep till much later.

* * *

He awoke to a new day the next morning with his mind as clear as the cloudless blue sky.

No more hero escapades, no more worrying about people who weren't or refused to be part of his life.

He took the initiative to hold Ginny's hand, much to Hermione's surprise and Ron and Ginny's delight. The four of them walked down to breakfast together and Harry didn't think his footsteps had ever felt lighter.

* * *

Harry was in the midst of one of his most fulfilling breakfasts and was even holding conversation with multiple schoolmates when a ratty old school owl crashed next to him. He quickly unhooked the small letter from its feet and fed it a few crumbs.

He looked up at his friends. Ron and Ginny fussed over a chocolate parcel from Mrs Weasley. Hermione was still absorbed in her latest book on American wizarding history. Swiftly, Harry fumbled and unfolded the paper under the dining table, eyes skimming through the short and hastily scribbled note.

It was note, written with stunted courtesy, from Malfoy asking him for help with Herbology.

Harry closed his eyes as he contemplated his answer. There goes last night's revelation of his new goals in life. He wrote his response on the other side of the torn parchment and tied it back to the owl's feet.

The owl hooted loudly and flew away. Harry distantly wondered if it understood enough to be bemused by this awkward correspondence between a shunned, gender-switched boy in hiding and a former hero with an identity crisis.


	3. The Susceptible Mind

A/N: The past week or so has been an absolute nightmare, so I really put off writing this chapter since I didn't want my mood to affect my writing. It's here now, though – please enjoy! Always brightens me up to know someone out there likes this piece!

* * *

Harry pelted down the dark corridor that very night, sweating with the irrational fear of being caught by that blasted cat Mrs Norris. He knocked the door to Malfoy's room anxiously, hoping that she wouldn't be an idiot and pull the same princess act. The door thankfully flung open immediately (with such desperation and force it almost sent Harry reeling onto the floor) and he slid in, closing and locking it firmly behind him.

"Finally Potter, I was wondering if you were _ever_ going to turn up-"Malfoy gasped, holding tatters of scroll paper that look like the remnants of torn Herbology essays.

"It's complicated figuring out what to do when the person asking for help refused it so vehemently at first, y'know," Harry said stoically, not in the mood for Malfoy's fits, "So what's up with Herbology?"

"The latest essay on that bloody what's-its-name flower; it's ridiculous, I can't make sense of what the books are saying, how am I going to write _twelve_ pages on it?!" Malfoy groaned, sitting herself back on the chair, looking surprisingly undignified in her frustration. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, "By attending classes and listening to Professor Sprout?"

Malfoy snapped straight back up and glared at him. "Very funny, Potter. I'll let you know I've had no problems coping with my other subjects simply by doing library readings," she sniffed haughtily, crossing her arms. Harry thought for that moment that she looked like a snooty white cat, especially with all that torn paper on her desk.

"I don't see you at the library ever, though?" Harry pushed on curiously, "Does your mother send books to you?"

Malfoy's eyebrows knitted as she looked at him as if he were a daft child. "I just hand the house-elves who deliver me my meals the titles of books to collect," she preened her hair, "And leave my mother out of this." She said the last sentence with a little more force, her lips thin.

Harry shrugged, understanding. "Alright, let's start discussing that essay then," he said, moving forward.

Malfoy cocked her head at him, "Haven't you written it? Or at least thought about it? I just need you to run me through the basics of that flower."

Harry hung his head a little shamefully, not wanting to let Malfoy know that he still relied a lot on the brains of Hermione to get by school work.

"Well I usually start on essays the day before deadlines, it's my uh- style," Harry fumbled, running a hand through his hair. He was starting to regret not preparing before meeting Malfoy (or even agreeing to help at all). Malfoy sneered, as if understanding the implication behind that statement.

"Looks like you have no choice but to start on it soon; perhaps tomorrow then?" she smiled at him and Harry flinched at that unnatural sight, "Perhaps you could go consult Sprout for me or a fellow classmate?"

"Wait- what-"Harry sputtered. He was _no one's_ house-elf. He could feel his face flushing from irritation.

"What's in it for me?" he asked after regaining some of his composure.

"Finally thinking like a smart Slytherin, eh?" Malfoy smirked, leaning forward, "But too late. We can discuss the price later; I want to make sure what I _might _be paying for is worth something first."

Harry flared at being subjected to such _valuation_ but he knew better than to stick around to fight with Malfoy. Besides, the longer he stayed out, the more likely he was going to be caught for breaking curfew. He snorted irritably at Malfoy and turned to leave.

"We'll see if I return tomorrow with help then," Harry grinned. He saw Malfoy's smug expression collapse as she stood up, pointing toward him and ready to shout expletives at him. But he didn't stay to listen; he was already fast running back to his warm bed to recuperate from those stifling minutes spent with her.

* * *

Harry cursed as he stood in a sweltering Herbology greenhouse just after breakfast the following morning. He felt nauseous from the strong smell of fertiliser and regretted cramming so much toast into his stomach at one go – but he had to so that he could quickly get away from the table before Ginny insisted that he accompany her to the lake.

He shifted slowly around the greenhouse, careful not to step on a stray tendril or inhale anything too nasty. If he had any sort of luck, hopefully he'd run into Neville. Neville had shown an even stronger interest in Herbology after the War, spending many hours tending to the plants and observing their behaviour. Sure enough, he heard scampering footsteps and hasty scribbling just up ahead from him.

"Hello Harry, can I help you with something?" Neville asked without turning around, still hunched over his notepad. A particularly viney plant was draping itself over his shoulders.

"Wait how did you know-?" Harry stammered, caught off-guard.

"Belle here flashed a light around her petals when she saw you, an unfamiliar person," Neville chirped happily, patting the plant he called Belle gently. Belle withdrew her vines and lowered her flowers like tame dogs. Neville looked charmed but Harry was quite disturbed at the thought of farming and breeding plants with _feelings_.

"Um, well, I need help with this flower-" Harry started, before realising he never bothered to check its name, "Uh, let me think-"

"Well, how does it look like?" Neville paced around the bright greenhouse, unnaturally impatient as he tended to plants literally reaching out for his attention.

"Ah, um," Harry tried to recall the plant he handled during that lesson, "It has many soft pink flowers, strong fragrance and grows really quickly. It's always lashing crazily at your face and in some cases catches flames and burns into ashes." Harry winced as he recalled how his burned almost immediately. Ron had been blabbing aimlessly about Ginny making sandwiches for their picnic later and he had emptied a whole watering can's worth of water onto the infuriated plant. The plant obviously thought death was better than being submerged by watering from a lousy gardener.

Neville stopped flitting around and cocked his head curiously at Harry.

"You do know the lashing crazily bit and catching flame bit isn't normal right, Harry? That mental behaviour only happens if you're _insincere_ about handling it and treating it well."

"Yes! I mean, er, no- and that's why I'm here-"

"Getting this flower for a date, Harry? Despite your negative impression of it, it _is_ one of the best gifts to give to a prospective lover," Neville grinned cheekily, "Do I get to guess who the lucky lady is before I pass the best one I have to you?"

Harry literally recoiled at the thought of dating girl Malfoy and gifting her the plant (which would probably strangle both of them to death before burning itself).

"Whoa, no, no," Harry raised his hands, "Our essay assignment topic, remember? I...don't want to keep a specimen of this plant, thanks. I just want to know more about it."

"Oh," Neville deflated, clearly disappointed that he had not found a fellow plant breeding fanatic, "Here it goes then-"

Harry spent the next hour listening to him go on and on about a plant that he was certain was the furthest from anyone's idea of a romantic gift. But he got more than enough information about that murderous plant for his essay in the end – now it was just whether he wanted to pass that information to that git living in her little palace.

* * *

"Well, thank you for the information, Potter," Malfoy smiled sweetly as she flipped through the notes she had dutifully taken from Harry's mini lecture.

Harry simply continued standing in front of her desk silently.

Malfoy thinned her lips as she glared at him, "Well, off to bed, Potter. I can't write an essay with a troll hulking over me and breathing over my neck."

"My payment," Harry replied, rather petulantly. He did not go through all this trouble to be called names and sneered at.

"What would that be?" Malfoy chortled, "Would a galleon suffice?"

"Get out and fly with me."

"_What_?!" Malfoy squawked, widening her eyes. Harry snickered at the sight, thinking that she looked rather like a malnourished surprised owl.

"You heard me right," Harry folded his arms as he walked toward the large window. The stars shone rather brightly tonight, patterning constellations across the sky. The full moon was out and Harry's stomach did a little flip as he thought of Remus, but he quashed the thought and rounded back onto the curious gaze of the blonde.

"I just want good company, a person that can keep up with me in flight," Harry said casually, leaning against the wall. He could tell that Malfoy _was_ tempted to get out of the stuffy room and fly freely without fear of prying eyes.

"Asking me out on a date, Potter?" she tried to sneer. Harry wasn't the slightest bit put off; he couldn't be when she couldn't even quirk her lips up into her trademark jeer.

"No; I just want a little competition because the other Seekers are barely a match for me," Harry puffed out his chest, feeling a little more proud than he would usually let himself be, "Besides, you know you want to get out for some fresh air and company-"

Malfoy's face contorted immediately as she stood up.

"I don't _need_ company, you wretched-"

"Back to this little pet peeve of yours, again!" Harry bellowed back, "When are you going to grow up, Malfoy, and realise that not everything everyone says or does is maliciously directed toward _you_?!"

"You don't know what I went through-"

"I don't, and neither do you know my full story," Harry snapped, "But I thought it shouldn't matter, now that that's in the past."

"In the past?! Potter, some of us don't have the privilege of leaving the nightmare; how can I, when _Father_ is still in prison-"

Harry sighed loudly as he got his back off the wall and stalked past her.

"I'm not here to argue over the War, Malfoy. If you don't want to fly then so be it, I'm going to bed," he retorted.

"Thank you for finally getting your stupid face out of my sight, then!" Malfoy shot back immediately.

Harry, with his hand already on the doorknob, would have barked out a laugh at their childish exchange if he hadn't heard the loud meow from just outside.

_Norris_.

"Fuck," Harry swore as he let go of the knob.

The meowing didn't stop; in fact it got louder and louder. Filch was going to appear any moment and Harry was going to get caught if he ever stepped a foot out of this room.

"Afraid of a wee little kitty, are we, Potter?" Malfoy sneered fully now, enjoying his predicament, "You still have to run along back to your tower now, though. I'm afraid the only bed here is for me."

Harry gaped at her.

Fine, he could be pushed around for the Quidditch thing, but he wasn't going to get into trouble as a result of _helping_ Malfoy.

"Sorry to crush your tender heart, Malfoy, but I'm going to stay here," Harry grinned victoriously back.

Malfoy whipped out her wand and pointed it at him viciously, snarling.

"In fact, I'll just take this spot right here," Harry said pointedly, happily draping himself over a soft couch near the fireplace.

"I'm going to jinx your fucking face off if you stay here another second-"

"And what? I'll just tell everyone to queue up outside your door tomorrow and wait for a glimpse of Mademoiselle Malfoy?"

That shut Malfoy up. In fact it made her withdraw like a hurt kitten as she slinked silently back to her desk. That was a low blow, and Harry knew it. Despite himself, he felt a little guilty.

"Look, Malfoy, I only said it-"

"Save it, Potter, just go to sleep," she said, her eyes lowered. She shifted her scrolls back to her bed before flumping herself onto it and covering her entire body with a fluffy blanket. He heard a muttered _Lumos _and the blanket was aglow. Furious scribbling ensued and Harry knew this conversation was over.

He really had to stop trying so hard with people.

* * *

Harry awoke before the sun was even up. There were faint glimmers of sunlight around him but the room was still mostly dark. There was a steadily breathing lump on the bed were Malfoy was so Harry assumed she was still sound asleep.

_Prat_.

He quickly got up, patting his hair down. He hoped severely that no one would be up at this time; or at least catch him leaving _Malfoy_'s room – Merlin knew how people would react. Despite what he had said last night, he really did not want _anyone_ to know of Malfoy's predicament.

Harry clearly had used up all his luck the past day though.

The moment he stepped out of Malfoy's room, he heard a surprised, "_Mr Potter!_" and looked up to see no one other than Professor McGonagall herself.

"W-watch where you are going," she said disconcertedly, trying to stare into Malfoy's room behind him as he hastily shut the door. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was up all night doing...doing shady things with that idiot.

"Sorry, Professor, was just dropping by to help a bit with her work!" Harry exclaimed the half-truth as he quickly strode off, calming down when he heard her murmured approval from behind him.

What he faced at the Gryffindor Tower was a lot harder to shake off, though.

He came face to face with an extremely exhausted Ginny Weasley, looking dishevelled in her messy hair and huge eyebags. Her tired eyes brightened the moment she saw him and she scampered up to him (a little like a rat, he remembered thinking).

"Where _were_ you, Harry? Ron said you weren't in and I stayed up _all_ night-"

"Merlin, Ginny, calm down, I just wanted some time to myself out by the lake."

"The lake? Oh that sounds wonderful, Harry, take me out sometime with you," Ginny pleaded with a tone bordering on annoying.

"I, er, I'm not sure if I'll be headed out again so soon-"

"Well the next time I hear you're out, I'll pop by or something with some food for us? And maybe-"

Harry broke his attention away from her as she launched into an endless stream of words and plans, groaning loudly in his head. He had hoped that after the war, his choices and actions would become less consequential – but it was clear now that they had not.

What wouldn't he give for a day that didn't involve such sharp twists and turns in fate.


End file.
